


Fight Fire WIth Fire

by dramady, edonyx



Series: Smile Pretty for the Devil [9]
Category: Adam Lambert - Fandom, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> The shit hits the fan (and something else hits Tommy's face *coff*)<br/><b>Word Count:</b> 6200ish<br/><b>link to previous chapters:</b> <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/1697">here</a>.</p><p>Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Fire WIth Fire

So the idea is simple, right?

Put Tommy in the video for "Whataya Want from Me." Deal with the whole shitstorm that came from the stealth video of them making out at Tommy's sister's wedding by not saying anything, but making Tommy the "lover." Little things that can be read any number of ways.

Frankly, Adam thought it's a pretty ingenious idea. But, truth told, it feels pretty crappy to pretend to be mad at Tommy. And he actually kind of channels when things were really shitty which just makes him feel _more_ crappy, even with the hopeful ending and all.

So when it's done, he nods toward the dressing room for Tommy to follow and when they're alone, he tugs him close. "Hi." Nose to nose, he cups Tommy's face and then he kisses him.

"Hi." Adam gets one of Tommy's little closed-mouth smiles, where just the corners of his lips lift, and then they're kissing, so there goes _that_ idea. To be that character in the video was... kind of a trip, to be totally honest, but it's a good way to deal with all the bullshit of rumours and half-truths (and whole truths, in the case of the video from Sadie's wedding). "What's going on?"

"I just felt weird scorning you all day." And if that makes Adam pathetic, well, so be it. Romantic at heart, remember? "Are you okay?" He asks. God, Tommy is so fucking _pretty_. And he's Adam's.

And getting more and more comfortable with that fact. Since Sadie's wedding, Tommy's made no comments about what he and Adam have, what they _are_, simply enjoying it for what it is. "I'm totally fine, babyboy. It's just... fake, right? I just- the idea of it being that big a deal to people kind of floors me, you know? Is it bad that we're kind of just... telling everyone, like this? Because I think it's a statement without having to say anything." Tommy gets up on his toes so they're nose to nose, mouths just a fraction of an inch away from each other. "Better for you to be pissed at me for fake than for real."

"Fake-mad all the way." That fraction of an inch is closed and Adam kisses Tommy again before he speaks again. "You're still okay with it, right? I mean ... it's a little too late to change your mind? But it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

Tommy falls back on his heels, laughing. "I gotta say, it was kind of neat being the other guy in the video, you know? When... all you want is privacy. It's kind of a shot against whoever took that video." Tommy's fairly certain it was a friend of one of his cousins, or one of Sadie's friends, but really, who knows? His smile fades off just a little bit, and Tommy's attention is on Adam's mouth, not only because it's such a _pretty_ mouth, but because doing this, making this video, the implications behind it, _do_ scare him, a little bit. "I'm not gonna deny it if someone asks right out though, you know? It is what it is." And for all of that, Tommy does love Adam. "You wanna hit Applebee's for half-priced appetizers?"

"You are such a sweet talker," Adam drawls, chortling out a laugh as he tugs Tommy under his arm. Time to go home.

~~

It is what it is and when the video goes live, Adam is at home and tweets about it and Twitter breaks and leaks are leaked and all that. But then he waits, and he watches.

Tommy's asleep in Adam's bed, sprawled out on his stomach, arms under the pillow beneath his cheek. They'd talked a _lot_ last night about what might happen when the video goes live, what _will_ happen, and what the reaction might be. But then Adam wore him out, and he's content to sleep with his face shoved in one of Adam's pillows.

_#WWFM  
@sometwittername OMG IS THAT @TOMMYJOERATLIFF IN ADAMS NEW VID??  
@someothertwittername: I knew that tehy were together! OMG  
@sometwittername3: @adamlambert @tommyjoeratliff IS THIS WHAT WE THINK IT IS?!_

Okay, so maybe Tommy's not completely crashed out, because about ten minutes after the video's up _everywhere_, it seems like, he comes down into Adam's livingroom, scratching his ribs. "So? Are people insane about it?"

"It's either you or Bill Kaulitz," Adam tells him, biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. "Or Kris, because of the guitars. Or ... some random dude. I think I saw a Cheeks mention in there. Poor Cassidy, he got left out." Adam's smile softens as he looks up at Tommy whose hair is all smushed up from sleeping, a line in his cheek from a crease in the pillowcase. "Crazy ride, huh, baby?"

"Bill Kaulitz freaks me out, I can't lie. I know _you_ love him." Adam's shoulder gets a little shove before Tommy slouches down next to him, resting his temple on Adam's shoulder. "Your bed is stupid-comfortable, by the way. Guess it pays off to be famous, huh?" Kris. Really. _Really?_ Tommy's gotten to meet Kris all of once, and that guy came across as so straight that Adam Lambert himself wouldn't be able to convince him to play for the other team. Plus, Kris' wife is pretty cute. "This is _insane._ I just don't get why people have to obsess over stuff like that, you know? It's just..." Well, the video kind of says it all, right? "You just want some privacy."

"But then I'm ungrateful." Adam lets his phone drop the few inches to the table and slouches back, pulling Tommy back with him so that they're half-laying, half-sitting on the sofa. That way, Adam can close his eyes and comb his fingers through Tommy's hair. "Wouldn't be where I am without them."

"Is it ungrateful to want to go shopping in peace? Or have lunch? Or like, pick a wedge or scratch your balls without someone taking a picture? Seriously." The feel of Adam's fingers makes Tommy feel shivery and warm, whether he's entirely awake, half awake, drunk, stoned, sober, whatever. It's always the same knee-jerk reaction: wanting to turn toward Adam the way a plant would face the sun. "You've been really cool about it." Adam, who's really, honestly, one of the coolest, nicest people Tommy's ever met - let's just turn a blind eye to the occasional ball gag and restraint, cool? Cool - and it's sort of disgustingly unfair that so many people feel entitled to him. Like Adam owes them something. "Gimme your phone for a sec, huh?"

"What are you going to do?" Adam asked, rightfully suspicious. "If you're going to twat as me, please ... you know. Spell-check." Unless it's 'tomorrow,' then Tommy can spell that shit however he wants.

"I'm gonna tweet at the world. Log yourself out of this shit, seriously. I'm not twatting under your name." Tommy's own Blackberry is upstairs in his pants pocket, and really, he couldn't give half a crap to abandon Adam to go and get it. "You wanna go out and get some breakfast after?" And face those cameras, now that a truth has been implied. For a second, Tommy's stomach shrivels up into a raisin, but he takes a deep breath and finds a little smile for Adam. "Besides, I gotta go get some clean clothes. You can hang out at my place for a bit. For once."

"As long as we don't have to play video games, I'm good. I hate zombies," Adam tells him, kissing that little smile. "Okay." And he leans forward enough to get his phone, open Echofon and log himself out, handing it over to Tommy before snuggling closer.

The Adam that had caught him, yanked him in in the first place is so different than _this_ Adam, the one who's affectionate and funny and not completely the center of shining attention, makes Tommy feel a lot more unsure than the other, For-Your-Entertainment Adam does. That Adam knows what to do, knows what he wants and _takes_ it; this one makes Tommy want things that he doesn't know the words for. So instead, he logs into Twitter and types this _@TommyJoeRatliff : Hi everyone! :) ys its me in wwfm. ys me n Adam are. pls respect it._ And, chewing on his lower lip, he gives Adam back his phone.

"Holy shit." Adam alternates between staring at the phone and staring at Tommy, gawping. "Oh, shit, it's on now, isn't it?" And then, for some reason he doesn't even get, he starts laughing and laughing. Maybe there's some panic in there, but it's just so ... Shit is going to be _crazy_. He should call people. Warn his team at least. "Oh, God, I love you," he chortles, cupping Tommy's face. "I just love you." Then Adam is kissing Tommy, even as he's still laughing.

"No more hiding, right?" They'd tried keeping it private and that hadn't worked. Obviously. So if they can't keep it private, they can at least ask for the fans to respect what they _do_ have. Between those laughing kisses, Tommy tugs at Adam, pulls him closer. It's easier when Adam kisses him first, when Adam takes that lead. Even onstage, Adam'll come over, Tommy'll lean against him, either chest to back (which, no lie, leaves him with a boner pressed up against the back of his bass more often than not) or back to back. But Adam always knows what to do, what to say, how to move, no matter if it's sweet like this or hard like the other.

"I promised you breakfast." One more kiss before Adam urges Tommy to his feet and into his shower. He sends one text, to his manager, and he says "Sorry." But then Adam turns off his phone and climbs into the shower after Tommy into some clothes and a hat over his hair.

Out the door they go and into the Mustang and the city. They have no trouble getting into the diner to have breakfast, but when they're leaving is when they find out just how 'cray-cray' it got.

Photographers lined up four-deep on the sidewalk between them and the car. "Oh, Jesus," Adam mutters, sunglasses on his nose. "Whatever you do," he tells Tommy. "Smile and keep walking. Just ... keep walking."

Oh come _on!_ Adam should know by now that Tommy deliberately doesn't smile for pictures! But he does as he's told, trying to get through the photographers, even being polite enough to say "excuse me, 'scuse me." He glances at Adam, lifting a hand to touch the inside of Adam's palm with his fingertips. This is _insane._ They'd implied it, Tommy _himself_ had confirmed it, and check out _this_ shitstorm, okay? By the time they get to the car, Tommy's face is pink and hot, even though he holds his head up. There isn't anything wrong with _any_ of it.

Adam has to be careful pulling away. The last thing he needs to do is run anyone over. LiLo he is not. But when they're finally clear and headed for Tommy's apartment, he takes a deep breath. As much as he'd laughed earlier, it sure doesn't seem funny right now. "I'm sorry ... " he says, eyes on the road. "I'm ... "

"What're _you_ sorry for?" Tommy pulls down the sun visor on the passenger side to maybe make his hair look a little less than completely stupid, and then looks at the reflection of Adam's eyes in the rearview. "I'm the one that did it." He even finds a little laugh. "'least everyone knows it's not just fanservice, right?" The visor goes up and Tommy's hand comes down onto Adam's thigh. "And besides, none of the paps know where my place is." Thank fuck for that, too. Tommy's place might give them a little bit of privacy, even if it looks like a tornado went through it. "I'd also be completely okay to punch Perez Hilton in the face the next time I see him. Is that cool by you?" As much as Tommy's trying to be light with this, there's still a thread of must-not-freak-out in his voice, his posture, even the expression on his face. This is _his_ doing. Tommy just hadn't expected this kind of reaction.

"If you punch him, do it when I'm not around, okay? Plausible deniability," Adam teases weakly. That their life is kind of just like the video, minus scorning, doesn't escape him and he asks, even though he hates himself for doing it, "still love me?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?" Tommy doesn't acknowledge what Adam said about Perez, because, well, Perez is a douche who deserves a shot to the nose for any number of things. "Here, park in the underground, my car's right there. You can park next to it. I'll let my super know that the Mustang is with me." At first, the cameras had been really cool, the attention sort of astonishing and flattering, but now, yeah, Tommy wants his privacy with Adam. "Promise, no zombie games. I'm gonna just get dressed, and then we can hang out here if you want." If there isn't an interview that Adam has to go and do, or an appearance that he has to get ready for. Tommy doesn't _think_ there's anything going on, and how awesome would it be to have an entire day off? "You love me?"

The look on Adam's face is, for the moment, unguarded and unmasked; _sweet_, as he looks back at Tommy, just as a wry grin crosses his face. "Would I be here if I didn't?" Because let's be honest. Tommy's place is kind of a shithole. No offense.

None taken. Except for the part where Tommy's place is _awesome_, painted dark with posters all over the walls, a big IKEA-ish entertainment unit with a TV in the middle and a mess of game consoles underneath. Yeah, okay, it's not exactly the neatest of places, but it's comfortable and _his._ As soon as the door's locked behind them, Tommy shucks yesterday's clothes and heads for the bathroom for another shower. Yeah, going out in public means cleaning up, but he was wearing yesterday's clothes, and even yesterday, they'd been on the verge of needing to be washed. So, yuck. "You can come in here and keep me company if you want? Or you can check out what's on TV..."

"How long has it been since you cleaned your shower?" Adam asks, following behind. He realizes that he sounds like a dork, but see, even _he_ knows guys. He makes a mental note not to check the toilet.

"I think my mom came and did that stuff... she knows I've been at your place a lot, so." Tommy gives Adam a one-shouldered shrug as he leans over to turn the water on in the shower. "Yeah, she cleaned it. It smells like Mr. Clean in here."

Okay, then. Adam followed Tommy in, though he didn't need to shower. He sat on the vanity instead. "I guess we can think you moving in .... " He looked down at his boots. "If you want to, I mean." Even as he says that, Adam realizes how _stupid_ that is. Just when Tommy was starting to relax.

"_What?_" Tommy stops dead and _looks_ at Adam, who in turn is looking at his boots, and, naked, Tommy puts his hand on Adam's shoulder. "What'd you just say?" Moving _in?_ Into Adam's place? The only people he's ever lived with are roommates. Not even a girlfriend or anything. "I gotta think about it, okay? Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I mean ... yeah." Adam laughs a little, brows furrowed together; he's laughing more at himself than anything, still studying his boots. "I ... yeah. Of course. And you can say no, okay? I ... it just kind of came out."

"Dude, do not look at your boots when you're talking serious shit with me." The shower can wait, right? At least for a second, and who gives a flying fuck if Adam's completely clothed and Tommy isn't? Not Tommy, that's for sure. "Did you mean it? Or... like. Was it seriously just something that came out? 'cause that's a really unfair thing say if you didn't actually mean it."

"Did you just scold me?!" Adam looks up with wide eyes. "Wow. _Wow_. Okay, Tommy. I'm looking at you. And I meant it. Then I realized that you might freak out because I made the offer, so I was giving you an out if you want one."

"Who said I wanted an out? And yes, I fuckin' scolded you, because I hate when people talk serious stuff and don't look me in the face. It means they aren't really sincere about it. And I- if you're-" Tommy huffs out a breath, resting his hands on his hips, and hi, what the fuck, he's _still_ naked, because the water's on and running and slowly filling the bathroom with steam. "If you want that, then you gotta _mean_ it. I've never lived with anyone I've, you know. _Been_ with." With a little frown, Tommy's fingers find the hem of Adam's shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "Get in with me."

Wow. So fierce!Tommy is ... sexy as fuck. And kind of a little intimidating. Adam likes it. "You know I don't say things I don't mean, don't you?" Adam says as he lets Tommy pull his shirt off. "I can't get my hair wet." Not that it matters with his hat, but still. That has to come off, too. He lets it fall to the vanity. "Of course I mean it."

"Fuck your hair," Tommy teases. "You just put a hat on over it anyway, so who gives a shit, right?" Tommy steps into his bathtub and lets the water hit him. It's only going to be a quick dip, right? Something like that. "So did you hear back from your manager? Like... I... I had to say something. 'cause everyone's going to start rumours and talk shit, and that's pretty stupidly unfair to you. And me, too." Jesus Christ, has Tommy ever mentioned how amazing Adam looks with his clothes off? Tommy doesn't come out and say it, but it sure as hell shows on his face.

"I haven't checked my phone," Adam admits, stepping in and pulling the curtain. "I ... would just rather not." Because the shit, he knows, is hitting the fan. He probably has dozens of missed calls. He catches Tommy's shoulders, though, and turns him around to face him. "I mean it. Okay, Tommy? I mean it."

The colour of Adam's eyes is something like slate right now; when he's serious about something (or seriously _into_ something, like Tommy), they're this colour. When things are goofy and stupid and fun, they're blue, and they catch Tommy just as hard. And hard, he is. Fuck. "I know you do. And... okay. Okay? Okay." Deliberately, he pulls Adam under the water so his hair gets wet. Yeah, take _that._

"Oh, you're an ass," Adam burbles under the water, but he laughs, too, bracing himself on Tommy's shoulders as he tilts his face up into the stream. And for a moment, he feels _free_. And happy.

"I'm not the only one getting hot and wet here," Tommy smirks, watching Adam's face and the way water hits it. It makes him think of something just graphic enough that he has to step away from Adam to get the Irish Spring and lather up with it. Just saying. "So, um. You know what I meant by okay, right? Like, I've gotta give my super a month's notice, right? But, you know." Scrub-a-dub, ignoring what's happening below Tommy's waist and even more importantly, the image in his head. Hot and wet. On his face. Gurk.

"Wait, what?" Adam pushes the hair from his face, hoping that Tommy has a decent conditioner, and he blinks at Tommy. "Oh... really." Something flutters in his stomach. "You're ... you're moving in? Really?" And well, when he notices that, he notices the other things, too, and can't connect all the dots. The idea of moving in is turning Tommy on? What? It's exciting, but not _exciting_. "Tommy?"

"Nothing, it's nothing. It's not- ugh. Nevermind. My head's in one spot and my dick's in another." Tommy rinses himself off and steps back for Adam to do his thing. Of course he's got good conditioner, he _bleaches._ Which means there's this Joico K-Pak stuff that his mom gets at her salon for him, and it smells kind of like bananas. "Is it cool? You said you meant it so don't look so fuckin' surprised, okay?" The sullen tone is because his dick is very definitely in a different place, thinking about other things, like the fact that Tommy and Adam can do whatever they want, whenever they want, and then go to _their_ bed. What! There's something hot about that, okay?

"Tommy?" Adam has to laugh a little, confused as fuck. "What's going on? Where is your dick and is it a good place? Can I go, too?" He starts the journey by reaching down to wrap his hand around Tommy's cock. "Talk to me."

"_Now_ my dick's in a good place," Tommy laughs. "Just- when the water hit your face. I just thought of... something. And you can always go with me, idiot. Of course you can." Tommy gets up close to Adam, warm from the water and steam as much as he's warm from Adam's hand (okay, make that hot; it took about two good strokes to get Tommy almost aching-hard, god, he's so easy), and breathes against his mouth words he _never_ thought he'd ever say. "I was thinking about... what it'd feel like if you came on my face."

"Really. Jesus." Adam's grip on Tommy's cock tightens immediately and he strokes even as he licks over Tommy's lower lip. "I think we should find out." Because _fuck_, how can that not be the fucking sexiest thing _ever_. Come all over Tommy's _face_. Adam's cock twitches against Tommy's hip.

"You wanna?" It's Tommy's way of asking for Adam to tell him what to do. Seriously, all it takes sometimes is a _look_ and he's itchy and hot. Other times it's a touch, or, okay. Let's talk about when Adam talks right against Tommy's ear, or touches the back of his neck. "I want to. We can... we can hang out here as long as you want and... we can..." Whoops, there goes Tommy's vocabulary as his hand returns the favour, fingertips light, almost tentative, against the underside of Adam's cock before closing his fingers in a circle around him.

"Shit," Adam whispers. "We need to get out of here." The shower, he means, and he reaches back to turn off the faucet with his free hand. Then he pulls aside the curtain and urges Tommy out, all thought of Twitter and paparazzi banished in the face of ... Tommy's _face_ as Adam comes on it.

Because Tommy's got an apartment, the bedroom is literally right around the corner, unmade, clothes scattered on the floor, a half-empty bottle of Coke sitting on the bedside table next to the clock-alarm. And who gives a shit if they're still wet? Not Tommy, not when he's biting sharp little kisses at Adam's lower lip, one hand still around Adam's cock, the other thumbing against Adam's nipple. Shit, seriously, is this going to happen? Tommy just had an embarrassing _thought_, just a flash of an image, and Adam's going to do it. Fuck.

They tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs before Adam finds Tommy's mouth again, licking into it, rocking his hips for friction. "I'm going to fuck your mouth, then I'm gonna come on your face," Adam tells Tommy, teeth grazing along that lower lip that he kind of adores. "Then I'm gonna suck you off."

Tommy makes a sound that could be constituted as a squeak - a mousefart, his dad would have said, if he were here, and now is _not_ the time to be thinking about his family - but the sound itself, along with the jerk of his cock against Adam's thigh, says _yes._ "How do you want me?" he breathes, hands carding into Adam's wet hair, eyes heavy and dark and looking at Adam's mouth. Even the shape of his words is fucking obscene, coming from lips that know how to steal pleasure from every fucking inch of Tommy's body.

"Lean back. Up against the headboard." Kneeing his way up, Adam urges Tommy up the bed, right to where he wants him, propped up a little bit. If Adam had his handcuffs, he'd fasten Tommy there and take a picture just for the two of them.

Next time.

Instead, Adam leans in, cupping Tommy's cheek to kiss him until they're both breathless, before leaning back and straddling Tommy's waist. "Open your mouth."

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Tommy watches Adam through lowered lashes, lips parted the way Adam had told him to. The funny thing is, before Adam, Tommy would never have considered himself to be submissive in any kind of way. He'd always been the sort of guy to figure out what he wants and go and _get_ it. Like auditioning for Adam's band, right? But Adam himself has this _presence_ that needs to be answered, and the best that Tommy can do is... do what he's told. Because he likes it.

"Such a pretty mouth," Adam purrs and he knees in closer and guides his cock into Tommy's mouth, feeling it slide along Tommy's tongue and not stopping until he felt the back of Tommy's throat. Then he started moving, one hand braced on the wall, the other cupping the back of Tommy's head to keep him _right there_.

The only thing Tommy does is relax his jaw, and when he can feel the bump of Adam against the back of his throat, his hands come up to spread against the backs of Adam's thighs, just below his ass. Oh god, Adam's fucking his mouth; this isn't exactly like any of the blowjobs Tommy's given him, where Adam's been the one who's still and Tommy does what he wants. This is Adam holding Tommy where he needs to be to get Adam off as hard as he can. On Tommy's face. Let's not forget that. Adam can feel the vibration of Tommy's groan.

"Yeah." Adam lets his head fall back and he closes his eyes. He just does what his body tells him to do, moving into what is hot and wet and _good_. A few minutes in, it occurs to him that the visual has to be as good how it feels, so he forces his eyes open and he watches. Yep. He was right. Tommy's red lips, those long-as-sin eyelashes, all of it. "Yeah."

Those long lashes sit on Tommy's cheeks as his fingers tighten on the backs of Adam's legs, urging him up, telling Adam that everything - _everything_ \- he's doing is just fine, from the not-quite-tight spread of his fingers on the back of Tommy's head, to the rock of Adam's cock on his tongue and against the top of his mouth. Tommy's heels skim against the bed, hips wanting to push up against nothing at all, but _fuck_, this is so much hotter than he'd even imagined, albeit briefly. He'd only thought of the end result, not _this_, and Adam can feel him shift, just a little.

"Sexy," Adam praises and he leans in even more, almost as if he's looming over Tommy and speeds up, his teeth digging into his lower lip. "So fucking pretty." When he's as deep as he can get, he pauses, just for a moment, until he hears Tommy's breath hiccup, then he leans back. Moving forward again, he pauses just that much again.

Oh fuck, when Adam does that, Tommy can't even _breathe_, and his fingers squeeze again for a whole lot of different reasons. _More_ is the most dominant, and behind that, _yes_, and far behind those two, the thought that he might just choke. And it's probably weird that when Adam calls him pretty, it makes Tommy _feel_ pretty, and he opens his eyes to look up at Adam as much as he can. Adam says he's pretty? Then Tommy's going to _make_ it pretty. He groans again, tongue pressed to the underside of Adam's cock, tasting the twist of salt from precome. _More._

So, Adam gets the additional perk of Tommy's _eyes_ with everything else. Win. The whorl of sensations move through him and too soon, he's pulling back, the hand on the wall moving to stroke his cock, slick with Tommy's spit. "I'm gonna come on you. Keep looking at me, I'm gonna come on you. Oh, fuck, I'm gonna fucking come all over your _face_."

Tommy's expression is stunned and helpless, watching Adam's face even though he _wants_ to watch the slide of Adam's fingers on his cock, and his lips are still parted, plush with friction and wet with saliva, and there goes Adam's mouth again, saying _that shit_ that makes Tommy feel about fifteen years old. "Okay," he breathes, lips just barely moving. Adam's face is flushed, eyes narrow with concentration. Fuck, Tommy's ready for this.

The room is silent save the slapping sound that comes with Adam jerking himself off _mercilessly._ Then there's the hitch in his breathing, a panted moan and fuck, Adam is _coming_, and he watches how the milky stuff streaks over Tommy's cheeks, his mouth, even that cute-as-fuck nose. Even imagining it in his head is _nothing_ like the real thing because it's _better_. "_Shit_," Adam moans. "Oh, fuck."

Tommy doesn't even realize that he's making a noise, low and thin, a verbalizing of the _ache_ that sits in his hips and low in his guts, tight and hot. There's nothing about Adam that isn't sexy, he realizes, bringing up a shaking hand to thumb away some of Adam's come to taste it. Yeah, he's totally come a long way since that first time Adam came in his mouth on the tour bus. He _likes_ it now, even with the weird texture; it tastes like _Adam_, and it's an easy aphrodisiac. "Fuck," he finally manages, voice as unsteady as his hands. "Am I- am I a mess?"

"_Yes_." A _gorgeous_ mess. Adam smears some of the come over Tommy's cheek, over his mouth. "Fuck." He's still breathless, arousal not fading because of how _fucking hot_ Tommy looks like this. With a groan, Adam tears himself away, moving himself and leaning down, holding and stroking Tommy's cock as he sucks it almost fervently.

For half a second, Tommy almost begs Adam to stop. Remember that fifteen-year-old feeling? Yeah, it's right there, and he knows that if Adam doesn't slow down, it's going to be over really, really fast. So, of course, in typical Tommy Joe Ratliff fashion, he does something stupid and involuntary. Instead of watching what Adam's doing, which is _bad news bears_ for any kind of staying power he's wishing for, Tommy wipes his fingers over his skin and sucks Adam's come from them. Yeah, that's an incredibly bad idea, because his cock jerks on Adam's tongue and his hips jump sharply off the bed.

It makes Adam smile. Internally, that is. But what it doesn't do is make him slow down. No, he _loves_ when Tommy falls apart and it's all because of Adam. Yeah. He loves that. A lot.

It doesn't take long for Tommy's body to get tight, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut, toes curled and fingers balled into fists. He knows he's still got come on his face; he can feel it on his left cheek, taste it when he licks his lips, and when he comes, he doesn't even _think._ He grabs a handful of Adam's hair and pushes him down as far as he can, cock throbbing against Adam's tongue.

Adam breathes in through his nose, swallowing compulsively until he feels Tommy start to loosen. Then he leans up, bracing his weight on one hand so he can smile down at Tommy. "I love you," he says, fervently. Sincerely.

Tommy's flushed and panting, and wow, he must totally look gross, now. "I know," he husks, knowing that Adam knows it means Tommy loves him, too. He's still not sure how it happened, how he found out it was _easy_ to love Adam instead of complicated and weird and hard. And you know what? Fuck the mess on his face; he pulls Adam down into a hot, open kiss that's a little bit Tommy and a little bit Adam, and totally, completely awesome. "I gotta wash my face," Tommy whispers when he finally has to breathe.

"Not yet." A few more kisses, then Adam leans back. Now Tommy can go. He rolls to his back in Tommy's bed, sprawled and comfortable. "Hurry back, okay?"

"Yeah." After washing his face, Adam sees Tommy go down the hall in a pair of boxers that had been folded and sitting on the back of Tommy's toilet (god love his mom, honestly), only to come back with two cups of coffee, since instant tea is kind of sick and revolting. "How many messages do you have on that thing?" One of Tommy's eyebrows goes up as he sets the cups down on the bedside table to sprawl out with Adam. "Did we break the internet?" Funny, something so light coming from someone who'd wanted to keep this so desperately private.

Except that Adam doesn't laugh. He's scrolling through his text messages and his email. "Um." Looking at Tommy, he chews on his lower lip. "Do you have a computer?" He's been sent _links_. Accompanied by multiple exclamation marks.

"Yup, just a sec." Tommy rolls off the bed again, doing a pretty good job of landing on his feet instead of his ass, and he grabs his laptop from the livingroom to bring back. "Here. Don't worry, the porn's all in hidden files." Is he joking? Only Tommy knows. "You look pretty worried... is... I fucked something up pretty big, huh." Goddammit. Tommy was just tired of the rumors, okay? That's why he wanted to be in the video, that's why he tweeted what he did. The truth can sometimes calm things down, even if it's a hard truth. Not hard for the fans, apparently, though. They _love_ it.

"No, you didn't, baby." Adam catches Tommy's chin and he kisses him. "I love you for doing that. Totally. I just guess that it ... kind of exploded.

On TMZ, on Twitter, on Perez, JustJared...

You get the idea.

Adam is torn between facepalming and laughing. It's all just so ridiculous! There's footage of them leaving the diner and driving away, played on a loop.

"Okay," Adam says quietly, almost to himself. Okay.

Adam opens up twitter and logs on. He only hesitates for a moment before typing,

_thanks for all the support guys. Glad you like the video! We luv all of you._

He should call his manager. He'll do that. But before all that, Adam shows Tommy the tweet, then he shuts the computer. "Remember what I said? About what would happen if we got back together? It's kind of happening. Are you okay?"

"Holy jeez," Tommy mutters, looking at everything Adam's shown him. "It's like being under a fuckin' microscope." Adam had said Tommy's twitter will explode; it has. He'd said that Perez will develop a snide obsession with him; it looks like he has, with pictures from the diner _this morning_ with his usual ridiculous scrawl on it. "You love me, right?" Even though Adam just said that, not fifteen minutes ago. That's the last part of what Adam said, and Tommy needs to hear it. So he can work on being okay with this. What he did was in the moment, thoughtless and easy, but the repercussions are going to be something to deal with.

"I love you," Adam tells him, quietly, looking back at him openly. Suddenly it's like the video, minus the scorning. His life is so crazy. And now Tommy's is too. "I think you said something about watching movies?"

Tommy pulls a deep breath before answering Adam. Properly, this time. "I love you, too." He runs a hand over Adam's hair, leaning in to steal a kiss from that freckled mouth he likes so much (okay, loves, let's use the proper word, now). "I'm going to introduce you to Bongzilla and a movie called Hostel. Then I'm going to show you just how awesome beer can be, especially when you're high, and I'll show you that my weed is _not_ shitty. Diva." Tommy's thumb flicks against Adam's spacer, and this kiss is softer and lush, open-mouthed. He can't panic. He _won't_ panic. This is what Adam wanted, this is what Tommy wants. And they'll deal with it, even if Adam will never ever forgive him for making him watch Hostel.


End file.
